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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24681358">hydrangeas and sweetpeas</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonkarnak/pseuds/leonkarnak'>leonkarnak</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Caligula Effect (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Other, anyways more sweet-p lucid bonding bc ive been thinking about them lately, did you know theres no tags for caligula bc theres like 5 caligula fics?, when i typed sweet-p the first result was for a . secret life of pets character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 07:09:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>646</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24681358</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonkarnak/pseuds/leonkarnak</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"why would anyone want to leave mobius?"</p>
<p>a simple question is asked, and lucid finds it hard to answer.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>sweet-p &amp; lucid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>hydrangeas and sweetpeas</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>hydrangea</span>
  </em>
  <span>, tell me something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>sweet-p’s brow is furrowed, and it’s unusual for the cutesy lolita to look so… befuddled. she sets her tea on the table as she frowns, trying to think of how to word her question to them-- heaving a sigh before she continues.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“why would anyone want to leave mobius? it’s paradise, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>they tap their fingers on the table, not sure how to reply. sure, they </span>
  <em>
    <span>lead the go-home club</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but it’s been a while since they’ve really considered the </span>
  <em>
    <span>why</span>
  </em>
  <span> of the matter- they’ve progressively grown more and more attached to their place with the musicians, further and further from their identity as the leader of the go-home club and the ill-fitting form that comes with it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>but they remember their companions, at least. their motivations, if not their own. “to… finish things, for some. or perhaps more accurately to ‘live on their own terms’...?” it’s a basic response, one that doesn’t really cover the complexity of some of the go-home club’s experiences-- the feelings that they are unable to shove aside even as they play the traitor to their dear friends.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>...the guilt.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“but </span>
  <em>
    <span>why?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” sweet-p seems frustrated now, though not at lucid-- something about the response has clearly left her wanting, and they’re unsure how to help until she elaborates. “why </span>
  <em>
    <span>live on your own terms</span>
  </em>
  <span> when you </span>
  <em>
    <span>don’t have to?</span>
  </em>
  <span> when it’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>easy</span>
  </em>
  <span>--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...isn’t that part of the reason?” they hum, continuing to tap their fingers-- a small melody, or maybe just a nervous tick-- they don’t know if it matters which it is. “it’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>too</span>
  </em>
  <span> easy. they don’t feel like they’ve earned it, or something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“but who cares?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“them, i guess.” a simple answer, and sweet-p narrows her eyes, sighing and finally picking up her cup of tea and taking another sip. they don’t really have a better answer than that, really. they themselves don’t fully understand-- they don’t even understand what lead them to rebel in the first place, or why they were so easily swayed by thorn’s offer.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>none of it makes sense, really.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>silence ensues for a period of tea, before sweet-p’s eyes suddenly widen-- “wait, hydrangea, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t want to leave, right?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>they pause, unsure of themselves. usually, their answer only depends on who asks-- they mold themselves to the shape of whatever their two groups of companions want of them, expect of them-- but it’s different with sweet-p, who has always been there for them, always </span>
  <em>
    <span>understood</span>
  </em>
  <span> in a way no other could--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...i don’t know.” they settle on, and sweet-p gets that look again, that look of ‘i don’t believe you.’ “i can’t seem to find an answer. i have no reason to leave, but i also feel out of place staying.” it’s a poor answer, and they know she won’t--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“how can you feel out of place? i’m here.” she seems sad now, her eyes large and somewhat watery-- shit, that is </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> what they intended-- “and so is everyone else! we all love you, hydrangea!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>do they? thorn probably doesn’t, they think. and shounen doll is… arguable. shadow knife and mirei, too. few of the musicians have actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>opened up </span>
  </em>
  <span>to them, accepted them in any major way. but sweet-p is right--</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>she’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>there, if no one else is.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“i know. sorry-- it’s not that, it’s just….” they sigh, fingers moving faster as they tap the counter, beat becoming more frantic-- “do i deserve this? to live like this, without worry? without--”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>their sentence is interrupted as a pastel blob flies at them, enveloping them in soft arms as they feel droplets of water stain their shirt-- oh.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>they’re being hugged.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“of course you do!” sweet-p sobs, holding onto them so tightly they forget how to breathe for a moment-- but then they remember, and they laugh, hugging her back as tightly as they can manage.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“...thank you.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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